


Proper expression of emotion in bra-ket notation

by thought



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3535355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thought/pseuds/thought
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>York and Delta make a good team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proper expression of emotion in bra-ket notation

York is on his back in a maintenance tunnel, thick black cords connecting his helmet to the access panel above him, seven layers down in the security system of a bio-weapons research facility with suspected Insurrection ties. It's one in the morning, local time. He's been awake for thirty-seven hours and the stims his healing unit's been pumping into his bloodstream leave his mouth dry and his hands shaky. Delta’s been trying to crack the encryption for three minutes. York has been thinking about coffee for all of that time.

"I require more processing power," Delta says.

York settles a bit more comfortably on the metal grating. "Go ahead.'

In the time it takes to exchange the words they've already had the entire argument and ethical debate, complete with assessments of potential risks and possibly one or two squishy confessions of trust and reassurance. York's getting used to thinking in larger concepts instead of words. York lets go of physical sensation, keeps his hearing just in case, lets Delta pull more resources. He can't follow the process, variables and calculations flickering past his awareness like static.

Somewhere on the other side of the building, CT is breaking into the archives in hopes of obtaining the hard copy financial records that are suspiciously absent from the network. York knows with a quiet sort of certainty that sitting in the pelican headed planetside is the closest he's come to flat out insubordination during the project. There's no goddamn tactical value in sending two of your three information retrieval specialists to do each other's jobs.

A test, Delta suggests.

Yep, but for who?

They hit the next layer of security. It's nice, not having to do this with a physical interface. York recognizes this encryption from the MoI's own files, so he shifts a bit more of the conscious work back to his own mind. There's a few seconds where Delta's tries to guess the security keys, that sick sort of feeling like falling and landing at the same time where a significant portion of Delta's existence hovers in multiple possible states without settling. They're not supposed to be able to do it like that. Decoherence immediate and unavoidable when D's chip is literally resting inside of York's head, with all the squishy warm bits and random thoughts and biases that that entails, but the more and more they integrate the better their results. York's always been lucky.

By the time they crack the encryption the facility's dumb AI finally takes notice. Delta slips to the edges of York's consciousness, trailing the AI into the system through the hardline connection to York's helmet. Without giving it conscious thought, York starts to follow him.

Delta's concern, almost panic, pushes up against him. Human mind not designed for virtual spaces; severe brain damage; unaware of our physical surroundings; concern; concern; concern.

The ideas are clear, even if the words have been entirely lost. York tries to push reassurance even as his own sense of self-preservation sits up and takes note. What he's doing should be impossible. Also, he's pretty sure he saw this episode of Star Trek, and it did not end well for anyone. That being said, nothing feels apocalyptically wrong at the moment, and the system's AI is throwing up walls of encryption and trying to set off thirty different alarms and if he'd thought going from keyboards to doing this shit in his head was a jump in efficiency, it's nothing compared to actually being present in the system, to the vague sense of physical reality that he's pretty sure he could shape to his will with enough practice.

Sometimes you just need a human touch, York says, trying to keep his words separate and clear.

The Church-Turing Principle argues otherwise, Delta replies.

York bats aside a couple wandering anti-spyware checks. Do you think The Director?

I have already checked his records. Church is his family name.

I guess there are some levels of the self-created narrative even he won't stoop to.

You must keep moving, York. There is not enough room on any server in this facility to store you.

York is pretty sure he's gonna have an anxiety attack about that later. Cool.

York says, Watch out for the-- and delta's already there, silencing the alarm. York dives into a cloud of suspiciously blurry data. Delta continues distracting the dumb AI. Just like in the physical world, they make a good team.


End file.
